Angelic

The intensity wrapped around Jackson had me running away, again. The expressed possessiveness had me reeling. I was excited and apprehensive at once.

The full reality of the situation hit me. Someone cared about me with that much passion.

It was unsettling and invigorating. How was I supposed to reconcile those conflicting emotions?

Had he actually intended on having sex with me in that room? For a brief moment, I was going to let him. No, not let him, participate, his need pouring into me. Maybe it was a reflection of my own need pouring out of him.

I sat in the bathroom stall, gathering my wits. Letting my libido cool down. Giving his libido a chance to cool down. If I didn’t, we might not make it home before giving in to this primal urge that surrounded us when we are alone.

No sex in public places. That included the back seat of a limo.

I heard the door open and the sounds of heels on the tile floor.

“Did you see Jackson brought a date?” I heard the nasally whine of one of the women.

“I wonder if he took her to the VIP room yet?” The other snarked, her voice deep and sexy.

“She didn’t look like the naughty girl type to me.” The nasally voice snickered.

“Guess she won’t be invited to his playroom.” They both laughed.

I placed hand over my mouth to avoid them hearing the shocking gasp that escaped. I did not want to give myself away.

The room fell silent. I was grateful for their departure. I extricated myself from the confined space. Thanking god I did not have a panic attack then and there.

I checked myself in the mirror.

No tears, I silently scolded myself. I’d only been with Jackson a week. I understood the man he was before me. I hoped bringing me here wasn’t out of habit, something he always did.

I took a couple of deep breaths.

Could a tiger change his stripes? Was him bringing me here him slipping back into his old habits?

Was I a passing fancy? I had to ask these questions.

He wanted me to spend time in his world. He gave me one week. I would give him the same. He deserved that.

I deserved that.

I wanted that.

Plastering a passable smile on my face, I left the confines of the ladies room. As promised, Jackson was waiting anxiously. His features signified he was probing my face for signs of something.

His slight frown alerted me to the fact that he knew I was in the ladies room at the same time as those two women.

He was worried.

He should be.

“Ready to go?” he asked in his low needy growl, sending a shiver of arousal down my spine.

No sex in the limo, I reminded myself.

Gliding into the limo, Jackson pulled me to his chest, stroking my hair. He kept the touching PG. That did nothing to keep my arousal in check. On the quick ride to the townhouse, we sat in comfortable silence.

Upon arrival, a small smile crossed my lips. Jackson’s mother’s place was small, simple. It looked like all the other middle class townhouses I’d seen over the years.

The entrance brought us into an open concept lower level, a bright living room with clean lines and nice artwork on the wall. I took a closer look at one I believed I’d seen sold as prints. This one was in oils, on canvas.

“I recognize this one.” I informed Jackson, pointing at the paintings.

“It’s one of my favorites.” He confessed, walking up behind me, wrapping his arms around me. “Mom calls it INDIFFERENCE,” he snickered. “She painted it right after she left my father.”

“Your mom painted these?” I asked, noticing the same signature on most of the paintings on the walls.

“Yup, her hobby to release all that pent up aggressions from living with a man who lied and cheated.” His voice steadied.

He took my bag I left sitting by the door. “Let’s get your stuff put away.” He motioned for me to follow him.

I had to get this out of the way before I could commit myself any further into this relationship. I needed to see the real Jackson. To see if he actually was the man he had been behaving like around me this week.

“Jackson, am I here so you won’t have to explain your playroom?” As hard as I tried not to, my voice cracked.

His steely eyes bore through me. He knew exactly how I knew about his playroom.

“Yes.”

His breath became ragged, his expression hurt. Hurt because he was embarrassed, or hurt because he thought I was judging him?

“I’m not judging. Jackson, I want to get to know you, not the man you think I want to know. I know your reputation. I also know you’re more than your reputation. Please don’t feel like you have to hide anything from me.”

He closed the gap between us, his hot breath against my ear. “I told you, I didn’t want to flaunt my past in your face. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

He took my hand and lead me to the sofa. “Angel, I’m no saint. I bedded a lot of women. Some more adventurous than others. I have a room in my apartment I used for sex with those women. I have never brought them to my personal bedroom. I’ve only ever bedded them in the playroom. It’s just another bedroom. Nothing more. When the time comes to take you to my pretentious penthouse, you most definitely will be sharing my bed. Not some playroom. I promise never to play with your feelings, Angel. I love you.”

Three little word. That was all it took to clear the air from my lungs. To have me floating on air. Three little words.

“I love the week we spent together, Jackson. I’m falling in love with you. I just need time to see if I can fall in love with this side of you. I hope you understand?”

I knew that look. I had seen that look plastered on his face in all those tabloids. It was his I won’t let you see me hurt look. And I put it there. I hated that I put there.

I would hate myself more if I lied.

He got up and grabbed my bags. “Let’s get you settled.”

I followed him upstairs.

He gave me the grand tour. His mom’s room had an en suite. Jackson and I took up residence in the guest room. Sharing a bathroom at the end of the hall was in no way an inconvenience. We were the only two people staying here.

The kitchen had state of the art appliances and cookware. The refrigerator was stocked with everything and anything. I was going to enjoy cooking in this kitchen.

When we finally got my stuff stowed away and Jackson set me up with the wifi for my work, we headed off to bed.

The heat between us ignited the moment we hit the sheets. The sex was wild, vigorous, hot and naughty. I didn’t mind being naughty in the privacy of a bedroom. I made that abundantly clear to Jackson.

Every night for a week, after we got the insatiable lust taken care of, we made love. I woke up exhausted and invigorated each morning.

I hated the commute to my studio. It didn’t matter that Jackson’s driver took me anywhere I needed to go, it was still not as easy as crawling out bed and walking downstairs.

I missed the convenience of knowing if I had an epiphany, I could simply run downstairs and change something.

I was happy to be back in my own place, but I would miss not waking up with Jackson every morning. I already mourned the loss of his presence.

There was comfort in knowing I could reach for him, touch him, make love to him at any time during the night.

The past two weeks with Jackson had been the closest thing to domestic bliss I had ever experienced. Staying would've been too easy.

We agreed we could not let our relationship get in the way of our work. I avoided telling him I'd already turned down a job in order to spend one more weekend with him.

I gave him the name of photography studios which had apprenticeships and volunteered to do the interviews. I was sure he was going to want to replace his photographer before he accepts another client.

Coordinating our schedules, we only had two days during the week where one or both of us was not working late. I had back to back weddings on the weekend and the studio was booked solid.

Exhausted, I prepared for bed.

Preliminary prints were leaked to the press, the ones Jackson used for the island campaign, and it was making me a household name. Now might be a good time to transition into boudoir and burlesque.

I felt my face flush. I wondered how Jackson would feel about that. Maybe he could be my guinea pig. I closed my eyes and imagined pictures of Jackson’s half naked body sprawled across a bed.

Heat pooled between my pussy lips. I pressed my legs together, hoping to keep a stream of wetness from dripping down the inside of my thighs.

I realized I was going to have to rely on my electronic boyfriend to relieve the ache accumulating between my legs. It wouldn’t be as near satisfying.

Laying on my bed, my hand glided down into my boy shorts and felt the wetness. Stroking my clit, I knew it won't take me long to alleviate the growing tension building in my core.

I was torn out of half aroused state with a loud pounding on my door.

Looking through the peephole, I flung the door open.

I was immediately backed into my apartment. I found myself turned around and pinned to the closed door.

His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, his mouth claiming me like we hadn't touched in years, not mere hours.

Looks like my electronic boyfriend was getting the night off and Jackson would be getting me off.

Yay for me.

“Jackson,” I breath heavily, “you’re supposed to be house-sitting and pet sitting.”

“That, my love, is what a personal assistant is for,” he explained.

His large masculine hands kneaded the flesh of my ass, lifting me, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist. Carrying me towards the bedroom, our mouths were glued to each other.

“Angel, I told you, I never want to wake up without you.” He panted heavily between kisses. “I don't care what I have to do to make it happen.”

I bounced as he tossed me on the bed. His eyes immediately focused on the pink object sitting near my pillow.

He took his time slowly crawling on to the bed, making his way up my body. He wrapped both my petite wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head.

Holding my attention with a mocking grin, he retrieved the pink object.

I suppressed a giggle that threatened to escape my lips.

Leaning against my ear, he teasingly growled, “Tsk, tsk, Angel, you weren't going to cheat on me, were you?”

“Is it cheating if the only reason I needed it was because I was imagining you, half naked on my bed?” I seductively purred.

His gaze narrowed, his stare needy, fiery, predatory. “Is that so?” He huffed gruffly.

I tugged my wrist free and guided his hand to my wetness, proving my point.

“I certainly can't argue with the proof right here in front of me now, can I?” He hissed.

Worrying my bottom lip, I simply nodded.

He turned the toy on and ran its vibrating tip between my breasts. My nipples tightened, my back arched, reaching for his touch. My body was wretched with anticipation and need.

“Lower,” I demanded in a gravelly voice I didn't recognize as my own.

“Lower?” He repeated, chuckling.

He removed the vibrator and stepped off the bed.

What the fuck did he think he was doing? He came to me. He carried me to bed.

Surely he couldn't be jealous of my electronic boyfriend?